Empyrean
by LawliPop
Summary: The courtesans of Empyrean are prized, pampered. Their work is pleasurable and easy compared to other lines of service, and the more successful are invited to exclusive parties and lavished with gifts by their patrons. To become one of Empyrean's is to earn the respect and attention of the city's elite. For Haruka Nanase, it comes at the cost of losing the one person who


_**Lawli:** Decided I would try this out as a fanfic and see how it goes. Please excuse some (hopefully only mild) OOCness. Different universe and all, the boys are bound to be a little different from their happy bff swimming is especially true for Makoto's dad. I know in the anime he's super nice and all, but in this he's gonna start off as a douche._

_As always, comments or concrit are greatly appreciated!_

* * *

"You _have_ grown up quite nicely, haven't you?"

In times of uncertainty, prudent silence often proved the wisest response, so Haruka lingered by the doorway, hands politely clasped in front of him, and waited for Lord Tachibana to make his point.

He was a giant of a man, the master of the house, and his imposing figure cast a shadow that seemed to consume the entire room even when he sat, as he currently did, behind a desk. "Funny how you don't notice the subtle changes when you're around someone everyday. It seems like just yesterday we took you in, and I can't help but think of you still as that uncivilized little scamp dropped at the mercy of my doorstep."

Haruka shifted on his feet; uncomfortable in a way he'd never felt before under his master's smile. He didn't like talking about the past. As far as he was concerned, his life began upon setting foot inside the Tachibana estate. It was here he'd gotten his first true taste of family, of love, even if he only worked as kitchen help.

"Sir?"

Tachibana held his gaze for a moment before turning aside, rubbing his chin as if pondering the best choice of words before heaving a sigh. "I'll be frank with you, Nanase." A man of business, he never had been the most delicate, favoring to zero in on the matter at hand rather than beating around the bush. Haruka, never a fan of small talk himself, normally valued the habit, although today the blunt honesty left him rather confounded. "A gentleman has expressed... interest in you."

"Interest?" He understood the meaning, but could not fathom how such a thing came about. He barely saw Empyrean beyond delivering or retrieving a tray of food outside designated mealtimes. "But, sir, I'm not—"

"Trained?"

Lord Tachibana rang a little bell at the corner of his desk and the study's pocket doors slid open. An attractive young woman wheeled in a tea service, and for the first time since he was a young child Haruka was permitted to sit at one of the plush leather chairs as a cup was prepared for him. One cube of sugar, a dollop of milk, just as he liked it. Still in disbelief, Haruka took the cup, barely remembered to mumble a word of thanks.

After he took a sip and graciously complimented the blend - now more than ever he felt on the spot, as if his every flaw would be scrutinized and thrown against him given the chance - Haruka dared to speak again. "May I ask who?"

If the inquiry was being seriously considered, only an important patron could have put it forth. Tachibana would have never even heard of it otherwise. His private staff remained separate from Empyrean; always had and, Haruka had believed, always would.

"Someone of influence who, you understand, of course, must remain anonymous." Very clipped, business like. As if Haruka were one of his many trade partners, an investor who could dump his millions elsewhere should he disagree with the terms of the deal, not a simple boy whose very life might be turned upside down at the mere proposition.

"Of course," Haruka echoed. Couldn't risk revealing the patron's identity with the chance Haruka refused the offer - as he was currently inclined to. He waited until Lord Tachibana took a sip of his own tea. "As I was saying before, I'm untrained." _Calm, even voice. Don't show insult_. Haruka closed his eyes, washed everything over in his mind with calming green, and continued. "I would not wish to embarrass myself, or worse, disgrace your business if I were... not to satisfy."

Lord Tachibana gave a conciliatory nod. "None would regret that more than I. But I would like you to consider." He set his cup and saucer aside, a motion Haruka mirrored. "Refusing such an esteemed client would not look good for my business either."

"I understand that, sir-" _calm, stay calm_ "-but certainly someone more qualified..."

Damn it, were his hands shaking? Haruka swallowed thickly, ducked his head to avoid the green of Lord Tachibana's eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. An acidic green, poisonous, not soothing at all, not like—

"Someone more qualified was not requested. You were, and I believe your inexperience is part of the reason why. Now, Nanase." Lord Tachibana spread his arms indicatively. "Haruka, you like it here, do you not?"

Haruka curled his fingers into the palm of his hands, nodded once. Barely four when his father dropped him on the doorstep, handed him over in exchange for wiping a debt clean, he knew nothing outside the Tachibana estate. It had never really bothered him, as there were so many good things to outweigh the sadness of being left by his family, and it had been so long he could hardly fathom life beyond the iron gates. "This is... home," he answered slowly.

"It _is_ your home." Soft, sympathetic. Lord Tachibana rose from his chair and walked around the desk until he came to stand behind Haruka, laid a hand on a narrow shoulder. Haruka tried not to tense. "After all these years with us, I would hate to see you leave."

Dread iced over his veins, stilled his heart momentarily. Haruka whipped his head back, eyes wide. "Sir?"

Lord Tachibana spoke over him, seeming oblivious to Haruka's obvious distress. "The world beyond these walls is an unforgiving place, especially to those with little means." His hand rose up, brushed the unruly black fringe from Haruka's forehead. "And I don't even want to imagine how it would upset Makoto. You two are quite close."

A slight sharpening of that understanding smile, and Haruka knew with a sinking heart there could be no hiding his emotions. Makoto had always been able to read him like an open book, and it seemed his father possessed the same talent. Still, he tried to weasel around it, pass their relationship off as hardly worth noting. "Makoto has been kind to me." Because Makoto was kind to everyone, regardless of age or status or if they were even kind to him in return.

"Yes," Lord Tachibana said, his gaze dropping to the stiff collar of Haruka's shirt, beneath which Haruka knew lay a very incriminating souvenir from delivering Makoto his tea the previous evening. "I've witnessed his brand of kindness."

The suggestive undertones brought a rush of heat to Haruka's cheeks. On reflex he covered the spot on his neck. "Sir, I promise, there is nothing between us." Nothing more than a hint, fleeting glances or a brush of fingers to Haruka's lips. Yearning smiles as they stole a precious moment of solitude to stand against one another and just breathed-hoped-wished, the kiss to his neck as boldly as Makoto dared show his affection and Haruka always too afraid of what it would mean to respond.

"Nor will there be." Lord Tachibana squeezed down on Haruka's shoulder, earning a pained gasp, and then his eyes softened again. "It is nothing personal against you. My son is a man of high standing. There are certain things expected of him, marrying a woman within his status and inheriting Empyrean among them. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Suddenly everything unspoken became clear. This was about much more than one potential client. "You want me to become one of Empyrean's." To become a courtesan, create a rift between Makoto and himself that could never be repaired. Makoto had a big heart, an unfathomable capacity to forgive, but Haruka did not think even he would take such a betrayal lightly.

Years ago, they'd made a promise to each other that when they came of age they would leave the Tachibana estate together. Makoto wanted nothing to do with his family's business, and Haruka aligned his own interests with Makoto's because things were easier that way. Makoto envisioned building a cabin and growing old in some remote countryside, and he promised it could be near a river because it was the one thing Haruka had to add when they built their imaginary future together.

Haruka had never seen a river before, or any body of water bigger than the bathtub in which he soaked himself after particularly stressful days, so he didn't know if he would really like that or not. But the fantasy, the thought of spending his life at Makoto's side and watching his hair grey and his back hunch over the years, of being able to watch sunsets and sunrises and seasons and everything in between from the warm cocoon of Makoto's arms... He liked that idea very much.

And now the fragile hope he'd built the past several years of his hope upon was crumbling, slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.

"It is entirely up to you, of course," Lord Tachibana said. "I don't doubt for a second your potential to become a top earner, if you set your mind to it. More respect in being a courtesan than a servant boy."

Haruka could not deny that. Courtesans were prized, pampered. Their work was pleasurable and easy compared to other lines of service, and in-between clients their time could be spent entirely to their leisure. The more successful were invited to exclusive parties, and lavished with gifts by their patrons. To become one of Empyrean's would be to earn the respect and attention of the city's elite.

Except it came at the cost of losing respect from the one person who mattered. Haruka swallowed. The tea left a bad taste in his mouth and threatened now to come back up on him. "And if I refuse?"

He didn't want to hear the answer. Didn't want to make it final. But Lord Tachibana allowed him not even a shred of faith to cling to. "You will leave the estate," he answered simply. "And you will never see my son again."

To his credit, Haruka did not react until after Lord Tachibana excused himself. Only after the heavy door clicked shut and Haruka pressed a hand to his mouth did he even realize the tears had been welling in his eyes all along.

"What did my father want?"

Knowing Makoto took afternoon tea in the parlor, Haruka had avoided the main staircase, opting instead for the hidden servant's passageways that twisted like spider webs around the estate so that he did not meet with Makoto and his ever-present smile. Thankfully he'd scrubbed his face clean before leaving Lord Tachibana's study, but just in case he swiped at his eyes again, avoided looking at his childhood friend and future master of the house as he crossed over to the low, rickety bed that had belonged to him for the past fourteen years.

Everything would be different now. The rooms of Empyrean were grossly opulent, as the rich liked. Haruka already knew he'd never feel comfortable there.

"Haru?"

Haruka stiffened as Makoto came to stand beside him. He hated the worried look on his face, because he knew - he _knew_ it would slip away, that concern corroding with ire, once Makoto learned the truth.

"Don't your afternoon classes start soon?" Mornings began with the difficult, maths and sciences and business practices, leaving a more relaxing and enjoyable afternoon studying the finer arts of language and music. Except, despite his gentle disposition, Makoto never was one for the finer things, and in fact those lessons meant to come effortlessly in the winding-down hours of the day challenged him more than anything.

Makoto caught his wrist, spun him around so they were nearly eye-to-eye. Once upon a time, Haruka had been the taller of them, but that was a far cry from the truth now. It seemed that in the span of time since they saw each other last Makoto had grown so the several inches that separated them felt like yards.

"Haru, what's wrong? Was father rude to you?" While rather docile, a threat to Haruka's wellbeing or happiness was usually enough to flare Makoto's protective instincts. He'd never shied away from coming to Haruka's defense, no matter if that meant telling off the servants or even his own peers. Lord Tachibana, however, would never tolerate such insolence from his eldest son.

Haruka forced a smile to his lips, controlled his voice as he spoke. "No, not at all. He..." Makoto gentled his grip so that he held Haruka's hand, and Haruka sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, he offered me a job."

Makoto's brow furrowed, the subtlety lost on him. "You already have a job. Do you not like the kitchens anymore?"

"I do," Haruka said, inching away, "it's just that..." Why was this so hard? _Just say it._

"Is it me?"

The uncertainty in Makoto's voice made his heart lurch. Haruka rooted his gaze to the floor, neither a confirmation nor a denial, because it _was_. It _was _Makoto, but not in the way Makoto assumed.

At once, Makoto released his hand. The small step he took to appropriate the distance between them seemed to Haruka the length of an ocean. "If my advances were unwelcome, all you had to do was say so. You did not need to go running to my father."

_They weren't unwelcome._ It was what he wanted to say. Because nothing could be further from the truth. The promising touch of Makoto's hand, the way Makoto looked at him sometimes, as if he were the most beautiful and desirable thing in the world – Haruka had craved it as long as he could remember. There was nothing he wanted as much as Makoto.

But Lord Tachibana was right. Makoto's life was all mapped out for him, the road to greatness already paved, as it seemed to be for all men of fortunate birth, and Haruka... No matter what dreams they'd crafted as children, Haruka did not fit in to that plan. Maybe he could have, if they'd been more careful, or if Haruka never felt anything for Makoto to begin with, or even if he'd been born a woman, but not like this. Not now that his secret was out in the open and effectively tying his hands. Lord Tachibana had made the choice clear.

This was all he could do. And if it caused Makoto to hate him, so be it.

"Someone requested me. At Empyrean."

And once a courtesan became Empyrean's, there existed only two ways for them to leave: either a client purchased their contract, or they earned enough to buy out their own contract. While the former happened quite often - Empyrean's courtesans were ravenously sought after – none, to Haruka's knowledge, had ever achieved the latter.

"No."

Haruka flinched at the severity of his tone. Of course Makoto would put up a fight, but Haruka hadn't quite prepared a suitable defense to himself. He was still too busy reeling in the mental aftershock, unable to quite process the conversation that had taken place behind the closed doors of Lord Tachibana's study, much less accept it as fact. More than anything Haruka wanted to shut his eyes tight, reopen them, and find himself at the start of the day, with everything that had taken place prior nothing more than a distasteful dream.

But this was reality, and Makoto's eyes were glaring at him now with steely resolve, and any explanation Haruka offered would sound as weak as his desire to actually follow through with the choice he'd made.

He reached out, grasped the lapel of Makoto's day coat. "Mako—"

"I said _no_." Makoto grimaced, brushed Haruka's hand away and, _oh_, that hurt far more than Haruka ever thought it would. "You swore to me you would have nothing to do with that place."

Haruka held his arms stiffly at his arms instead, reminded himself that this was how things would be and that that was okay because even if Makoto hated him at least he would still be in Haruka's life. He would still fulfill half of his dream – watch Makoto grow old – even if he could no longer do so by his side.

"That was years ago," he said, pointedly ignoring the way the words seemed to strike Makoto like a physical blow. Too soft, Makoto's heart; too easy to wound. "I'd be a fool to turn away an opportunity to make a good living."

"A good living?" Makoto shook his head, incredulous. "As a courtesan?"

His eyes were pinched about the corners with repressed emotion, which both saddened and impressed. The Makoto he'd grown up with was a gigantic crybaby. Haruka hated that now Makoto was withholding that side of himself. Had the trust between them already severed? Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised; he'd known it would happen sooner or later, he just hadn't thought Makoto would be so quick to give up on him.

"They're entertainers as well," Haruka said.

"Who sleep with their clients," Makoto countered.

Haruka sighed. "I don't have a choice," he tried to say, but Makoto would have none of it. His anger easily outmatched Haruka's meager self-defense.

"Of course you have a choice. The Haruka Nanase I know doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do."

Haruka wished he could be honest, lay bare the ultimatum Lord Tachibana left him with, but it would only make the situation worse. Makoto would confront his father, and it would only result in straining their relationship. Very little would actually change, except perhaps Lord Tachibana taking away any of Haruka's options and slamming the door in his face.

"Your family's done so much for me. Your father took me in when anyone else would have turned me away." Just a scrawny kid, dirty and weak, useless with housework and even worse at following orders; it was a wonder he hadn't been kicked right back onto the streets. "If this is how I can repay him—"

"Repay him? Your father abandoned you here, to work like a slave to pay off his own debts! I'd say you've more than earned your keep."

"Well it's not your place to decide that," Haruka snapped. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, had been trying so hard to not let his frustration get the better of him. Makoto had every right to be upset, to question the decision Haruka had made, and Haruka shouldn't fault him for doing so. But, damn it, it just made the situation so much harder than it needed to be.

With a huff, he pulled a worn suitcase out from underneath the ancient bed. Lord Tachibana wouldn't give him time to dally and change his mind, and it was probably for the best. Much longer under Makoto's desperate green eyes and Haruka knew he'd cave. "You're not the master of the house yet," he reminded him.

_There's nothing you can do_ went unsaid, but Makoto seemed to take the challenge upon himself anyways. After a final, imploring glance went disregarded by Haruka, he clenched his fists at his sides, posture straightening impeccably. He looked every bit the heir apparent, faultlessly groomed and accustomed to having his orders obeyed, as he sauntered to the door.

"We'll see about that."

' ' '

The following morning, a pageboy arrived to transfer Haruka's belongings. He was unfamiliar, probably of Empyrean's staff, and he eyed the single case at the center of the room dubiously.

"Is that all, sir?"

_Sir._ As if he were a man with true worth attached to his name rather than between his legs. Haruka shifted uncomfortably and waved a hand at the suitcase. "That's all."

He had more, of course. The uniform he'd worn as a kitchen attendant, clothes that Makoto handed down to him once he'd outgrown them, insisting all the while that once they lived together he'd buy Haruka his own, new things, because Haruka deserved them. Haruka couldn't bring himself to carry the remnants of that impossible fantasy to Empyrean, and so they remained locked away in a dusty trunk, where he could hopefully forget about them.

In his suitcase he packed only the few outfits he'd bought with his own coin, and a photograph of his mother. Who knew if he'd even be allowed to keep any of it. No doubt Lord Tachibana would want him in clothes that appealed to his clients, and the photograph might be considered too morbid or personal or tacky to actually display.

The page took the case, happy with the lack of physical burden. "If you'll follow me then. I'll have your belongings brought to your new quarters straight away. The maid staff will see to unpacking them."

"I can do that myself," Haruka assured him, earning a raised eyebrow.

"I'm afraid you'll be far too busy for that today, sir," the servant disagreed. "You have several appointments booked for the afternoon."

"Appointments?" _Already?_ Haruka brought a hand to his chest, gripped the fabric of his shirt to ease the anxious racing of his heart. He'd have thought Lord Tachibana would give him at least the day to adjust to his new surroundings before thrusting him into his duties as a courtesan.

The page laughed, but the twinkle of his pale blue eyes was not unkind. "Oh no, sir. Not those kinds of appointments. If you'll pardon my saying, you're a far cry from ready for your debut." Haruka relaxed, the tension ebbing from his shoulders. "Today you will be seeing Lady Amakata. She is a very popular stylist – a rising star, so to speak. You'll also be meeting with a tailor. Until you start to build a clientele of your own, they'll generate a look for you that will attract patrons."

Haruka didn't like the sound of that. If he'd been requested based on whatever fleeting look the esteemed, anonymous client caught of him, then why should he have to change anything about his appearance or the way he dressed?

"I'm afraid that's just the way it is, sir," the page said. Then, as if to appease him: "this will come at no cost to you. Lord Tachibana covers all basic cosmetic expenses, as a personal gift to his courtesans."

And how much could that cost for a man of such means? Haruka rolled his eyes. "How generous."

The page tipped his head to the side, regarded Haruka curiously. "You resent Lord Tachibana."

Haruka didn't even bother to hide it. "Yes."

"You'll change your mind," the page said with a decisive nod. The smile remained pasted to his lips and Haruka repressed the urge to wipe it clean with a rude remark. "You don't know how lucky you are. I've been dreaming of Empyrean since I was a kid. I'm hoping one day..." His voice trailed off and he gave a nervous laugh.

Haruka wondered how old he was. His skin had the elasticity of youth, but his eyes and hands were of someone born into the hard life of servitude, not to mention the strange ash-grey of his hair associated either with age or disease. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, I never introduced myself, did I?" The page set the suitcase down and bowed humbly. "I am Aiichirou Nitori."

He was about to say Nitori could gladly take his place at Empyrean if he wanted it so bad, but as they rounded the corner to the main staircase the words died in his throat. He came up short just paces from Makoto, who looked dashing as ever in his smart morning coat, pants neatly pressed by someone who was not Haruka.

"Master Makoto!" Nitori bowed hastily and scuttled to the side so as not to impede Makoto's path. Makoto only glanced over him, eyes immediately drawn to Haruka, and though it looked like he wanted to say something, in the end he snapped his jaw shut and nodded stiffly in greeting.

So, that was it then. No last-minute appeals for Haruka to change his mind, no admittance that he would be missed. A scathing remark would be uncharacteristic of Makoto, but Haruka would have preferred even that to the stony silence that hung thickly between them now. Haruka hadn't been informed of the details of Makoto's talk with his father, only knew that Makoto stormed uninvited into his father's study the evening after learning of Haruka's impending relocation. Anything further was unnecessary, seeing as obviously whatever argument Makoto had prepared proved ineffectual.

"Mister Nanase?"

Nitori stood at the top step, nervously shifting his gaze from Makoto to Haruka, clearly ready to leave the tense atmosphere. With a huff, Haruka tore his eyes away from Makoto. "Afternoon," he said, terse, and bowed to his friend for the first time in years.

That seemed to trigger something inside of Makoto. He reached out, caught Haruka by the elbow. "Haru, I—"

"Yes?"

Haruka studied his face, hopeful. _Ask me to stay._ He would do it. If Makoto pulled him into his arms, demanded Haruka stay and be his alone, Haruka would find a way.

Makoto hesitated. Very slowly his grip loosened on Haruka's jacket until the material slipped through his fingers. For a moment his arm remained suspended between, and then even that dropped, along with his focus.

Haruka swallowed the despondent lump in his throat, took a moment to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes, and nodded decisively. "Goodbye, Makoto."

And painful though it was, he forced himself not to look back.


End file.
